


Hybridization

by Bloodsbane



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crushes, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Roommates, Teasing, that's it... that's the fic, the boys play animal crossing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: When Jon moves out to allow his best friend and ex, Georgie, to live with her girlfriend, he ends up moving in with five other people. One of which includes the elusive Martin Blackwood, who's too busy to play his own copy of a video game. Their paths cross one late night following Jon's attempt to play the game in secret.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 44
Kudos: 324





	1. Pink Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by my own feeble attempts to breed blue roses in Animal Crossing, which is an unnecessarily complicated process (especially considering how much conflicting info there was when the game first came out!)
> 
> Anyways, I thought the idea of Martin and Jon trying to work together to get blue roses was cute, and so all this happened.
> 
> Special thanks to ostentenacity and dathen for beta reading!

It’s not that Jon particularly wants to live with Tim Stoker. But Tim is the first to offer; he already lives in a big house with an extra room available, just large enough to suit someone like Jon, who doesn’t need much. Nevermind that he’s always been nice to Jon, and Jon knows he’s not the easiest person to get along with. Overall it’s really quite nice of Tim to extend the invitation more or less immediately after hearing Jon is searching for a new place. 

So the problem isn’t really with Tim, not personally… At least, that’s not the whole issue. Tim can be a bit overly-friendly, in Jon’s opinion, but that’s better than being cruel. Really, the main problem Jon has to consider is the fact that Tim already lives with four other people. 

First is Sasha, their co-worker. Jon’s always wondered about Tim and Sasha’s relationship. They seem close - not _together_ , but comfortable in that way he assumes can’t be quantified with conventional labels. Tim certainly acts like Sasha personally hung the moon (a sentiment Jon can at least understand, having worked with the woman for a couple of years - he deeply admires her professionalism and work ethic). It was, in fact, Sasha who made it possible for the two of them to move into the building, which had previously belonged to her grandparents. 

Along with Sasha are two others: Gerard Keay and Michael Shelley. Jon hadn’t met them before coming to see the house to inspect his possible future room with Tim after work one evening. Gerard seems like a decent guy, despite his gothic punk aesthetics, and Jon shares a relatively interesting, if brief, conversation with him about art. Michael is the only housemate Jon encounters who seems like they might be trouble, but even they are cordial enough when Jon visits. They’re also an artist, though of a distinctly different sort from Gerry. The two of them claim to have previously been roommates for a few years before needing a new place.

The house is nice - two stories, with two bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs. Tim and Sasha each have their own upstairs, while one is split by Gerry and Michael, leaving a final bedroom for the fifth occupant, who is conspicuously absent from Jon’s tour. 

“Works long days,” Tim explains. “Probably won’t be home ‘till nine or ten tonight.” 

That would be Martin Blackwood, whom Jon has heard about often enough but never actually met. Tim seems fond of him, and frequently laments the many hours his friend spends working during the day. 

The room that would be Jon’s isn’t a bedroom proper, but rather a large closet space that has been emptied out and repurposed. To Jon’s surprise, a comfortable-looking futon has already been set up in there, along with a desk. Tim explains they hadn’t been sure, when inviting Gerry and Michael, if the two would be comfortable staying in one room. Apparently their previous apartment hadn’t been much bigger than the current bedroom, though, which was a master’s. He, Sasha, and Martin had prepared the closet as a backup. 

It seems almost too convenient, but at this point Jon doesn’t have much of a reason to argue. The closet is big enough for a bed, a desk, and maybe a small dresser, which is basically enough for Jon. There’s space beneath the futon too, and Tim offers a chunk of his closet space to Jon if he needs it. The house is in a good location, and now Jon can commute to work with Sasha and Tim instead of taking the bus, since Tim has a car. 

It isn’t like Jon has any other options. 

So he accepts the offer relatively quickly, and is surprised to find Tim and the others so pleased about it. They help him bring his meager belongings over from the apartment he had previously shared with Georgie. She helps as well, and pulls him aside at the end of the day for a hug and a thank-you. 

“I’m really, really excited to have Melanie finally living with me,” she gushes, and hugs Jon again, tighter this time. He hugs back, a bit awkwardly, but with no less feeling. “I guess I’ll miss you though.”

“And I’ll miss the Admiral terribly,” Jon replies wistfully, which earns him a smack on the arm. But it also makes Georgie laugh, so he’ll count the day as an overall success. 

* * *

One morning, when Jon is dragging himself to the downstairs bathroom to take a shower, he spots Tim on the couch. It’s a workday, but Jon prefers to get up a few hours before he has to leave the house. He’s surprised to see Tim awake. 

When Jon wanders over to ask about it, Tim merely grins and gestures to the game he’s playing. On screen is a little person in a tank top and grey pants. They have a hairstyle similar to Tim’s, actually, short and spiky at the front. “I’m playing Animal Crossing for Martin.” 

“You’re… playing a game… for someone else?” Jon asks, befuddled. 

“Yeah! Ever heard of this game?”

“I haven’t heard of most video games, thankfully.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Don’t get all snobbish on me, _boss.”_

“Please don’t call me that while we’re- here, _Timothy.”_

Tim chuckles, then looks to the television again. “It’s not super complicated. You play as a little guy and run around on an island with animals on it, except the animals are like little people. Anyway, you just collect fish and bugs and sell them for money - it’s called Bells, in this game - and use it to buy stuff, like a bigger house or clothes and whatnot.”

“So it’s just real life,” Jon says flatly. 

“Yeah, but if real life was cute! And you didn’t have to pay taxes. And if you could talk to birds.” 

“And what part of this game is so difficult you have to do it for someone else?”

“It’s not that it’s difficult,” Tim explains. “But some things can only be done before a certain time. Goes off a real clock, you see? So, for example, the clothing store closes at around nine at night. But Martin doesn’t always get home by then, see? And sometimes when he gets home he’s really tired and usually passes out basically right away, or can only manage to eat dinner before sleeping. So sometimes I - or one of the others, we all like to play now n’ then - do the little daily chores for Martin.”

“So it’s a communal game?” Jon asks. 

“Technically it’s Martin’s! I did get it for him, for Christmas. It’s my Switch though.”

“What?”

“The console that I’m playing on. Damn, you really don’t know anything about video games, huh Jon?”

At this point Jon has had just about enough of Timothy Stoker for one morning, and grumbles about getting ready for work before departing. 

\---

Jon truly doesn't mind the size of his room, but sometimes it can feel a bit stuffy. It also makes him feel strangely lonely, which is ridiculous, as there are almost always at least two other people in the house with him. Still, sometimes Jon prefers to take his work out into the living room, where it is open and has more ambient noise and light from windows. 

Sometimes, during the afternoons on weekends, he sees Gerry playing the little animal game. Once again the character runs around, though Gerry usually dresses up in darker, prettier clothes than Tim. Today they’re in a leather jacket and checkered skirt with fishnet leggings. Jon notices Gerry also changes the hairstyle and color to reflect his own black ponytail. 

“You can change the character however you want?” Jon can’t help but ask. He’s mostly been able to focus on his work, but every now and then a bright, cheery noise will come from the television, and his curiosity will get the better of him. 

“Oh, yeah,” Gerry replies. “You can change hair and eye color ‘n stuff whenever you like. Skin color too.” 

“Why?” 

“So you can look however you want.” 

“Does that… do anything? In the game?”

“Not really,” Gerry admits. “Just for fun, really. You can be however you like. In the old games, I think you could only be a boy or a girl, you see? But in this game they call it ‘style’ and let you do whatever you want.” 

Jon sat up straighter, but didn’t ask more about it, only watched as Gerry spoke to an anteater and handed him a present. 

\---

Sasha likes to play right when she, Jon, and Tim get home most weekdays. She gives the character longer hair, bronze in color, and wears cute dresses with wide skirts. She also likes silly little hats that annoy Jon a bit - they’re clearly not attached to the head, and the character keeps running, so they should fall off constantly, but they don’t.

“I like decorating,” Sasha tells Jon, even though he didn’t ask. He’s a bit beat from work as well, and had been discussing something with Sasha even as she booted up the game. It feels natural to sit on the couch with her, one square cushion between them. “Martin says I can terraform as much as I want as long as I leave the garden alone. Been working on a little project over on the west side.” 

“Terraforming?” 

“Yeah, you can change the water flow and the cliffs. Right now I need space for a little plaza thing I have in mind.” 

“Why do you all like this game so much?” Jon asks, even as his own hands twitch while watching Sasha don a white construction hat. At least it makes sense for this one to stay on her head as she runs about.

“It’s just fun,” Sasha says. “It’s… low-stakes entertainment. Something cute and colorful and just engaging enough to keep your attention or demand a bit of thought, but there’s no great consequence to anything. Perfect for someone like Martin, which I suppose is the whole reason we have it.” 

“I still haven’t met him,” Jon mutters. “Not properly. I think I saw him in the kitchen one evening, but we didn’t talk.”

“Really? Well I guess that makes sense, he works almost every day.”

“What is it he even does?” 

“He has a couple of jobs; keeps busy. He, ah- well, it’s kind of personal. Not really my business.”

“Oh.” Jon leans back on the couch and watches Sasha place pathways in silence. 

* * *

Jon wants to play the game. 

He doesn’t like the fact that he wants to, because he doesn’t quite understand _why_ , but he can’t stop wanting to try it. He’ll watch one of the others run around and do their little chores, will listen to them hum along with the music, and all he can think about is wanting to explore a different part of the island, or move something to a different spot, or try to go fishing when the focus is on catching bugs. It’s absurd and childish, how much he wants to control the character, maybe even change their skin and hair to match his own, just because he can. 

The threat of teasing is what keeps him quiet. He doesn’t want Tim to get on his case about his desire to play, or to make fun of Jon while he no doubt fails in every way. His grandmother hadn’t owned any computer games or video games of any sort, and most of Jon’s friends in uni played the sorts of shooters that held no interest for him. Nothing this vibrant and relaxed, certainly. So he knows it’ll be embarrassing for anyone to witness him playing for the first time. He’s tried to learn the controls by watching the others, but as it turns out, it’s really difficult to watch someone’s hands on a controller while also seeing what happens on screen. 

So Jon comes up with what he considers to be a pretty good plan. Tim explained and demonstrated to him once that the Nintendo Switch allowed you to take it out of the little black holder, so you could either play with a controller while it was on the television or carry it around with you. Jon had been surprised to learn this, but then he realized what it meant: if he wanted to play the game in secret, he was perfectly capable of taking it back to his room without anyone knowing.

Which is why Jon stays up until two in the morning, when he is sure everyone else is asleep. Martin, of course, had gotten home around ten that evening, had a small dinner on his own, and disappeared before Jon even realized it. Gerry and Michael tended to turn in much earlier than even Jon, so they were already asleep. Tim and Sasha had returned from a friend’s party around midnight, lightly buzzed, and swiftly retreated into their rooms for some hard-earned rest. 

Jon sneaks into the dark hallway, overly aware of every sound his bare feet make on the hardwood floors. It’s not until he’s nearly to the living room that he notices it’s lighter than it should be in there. Once he’s closer, he begins to hear, very faintly, the sound of familiar music. 

There’s someone playing the game already! 

Jon carefully peeks his head around the corner, but doesn’t see anyone on the couch. The game’s first screen is there, waiting for someone to start it up. It was following the pink ostrich character around (what was her name… Flower? No, no, it was Flora - Tim’s favorite.)

Slowly approaching the console, Jon wonders if someone had simply left the game open before going to bed. But it couldn’t have been Tim or Sasha, right? And it was off before all the others went to bed? So who-

“Oh!” 

Jon nearly bangs his knee into the coffee table when he twists around. There’s a man standing behind him at the entrance to the kitchen. He’s tall, with soft-looking auburn hair that curls just slightly at the ends. He has tired eyes with shadows underneath, and Jon can’t see their true color in the dim lighting provided by the game.

“You- You’re Jon, aren’t you?” asks the man. Jon realizes this must be ever-elusive Martin Blackwood. “I- Sorry, did you… did you want to play?” 

“What?”

Martin, who is holding a mug of something hot, gestures to the television with his drink. “Did you want to play the game? It’s totally fine if you do, I was just-”

“No, no, of course not,” Jon says, and he knows he’d been too sharp when he sees Martin flinch just slightly. Trying to control his tone despite his panic, Jon scrambles for an excuse. “I was just… hungry. I wanted a snack, so I came out for a snack and- didn’t know why the television was still on.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s me,” Martin offers, chuckling weakly. “I, um, sometimes prefer to play really late. Sorry!”

“No, it’s fine,” Jon insists. Then he stands there, awkwardly, because Martin is in front of the kitchen doorway, and should he just go back to his room? 

Martin helps him choose by walking to the opposite side of the table and placing his mug down. He then heads for the television to grab his game controller. While his back is turned, Jon flees into the kitchen. 

Reluctant to actually eat anything at such a late hour, but refusing to have Martin suspect his true intentions, Jon rummages around the kitchen for something light. There’s still tea available from the batch Martin made, but Jon staunchly ignores it. Eventually he returns to the living room with a meager handful of grapes, which is a fruit he isn’t even particularly fond of, but they’ll do. 

Martin is starting up the game, his little avatar stepping out into the simulated nighttime of the island. The mailbox has, of course, already been checked by Tim, but Martin double-checks it anyway. Jon, not knowing what else to do, sits in the chair farthest from Martin and watches. 

Martin doesn’t say anything to him, for which Jon is fervently grateful. Still, he’s braced for any indication that the other man has an issue with him watching. No one else has complained so far, but Jon doesn’t really know anything about Martin. The most he’s gathered from Tim and Sasha is that he’s a busy guy who makes good tea and is generally well-liked. But that doesn’t mean he’ll like Jon or be inclined to tolerate his presence. 

Yet Martin says nothing as he goes to the little mirror in his house to adjust his appearance. 

Jon watches him change his skin to be a bit paler than Gerry’s, who had played last. As it goes on, Jon recognizes some of the choices, thinking of how the avatar usually looks like in the mornings, when Tim or Sasha plays. Martin gives himself longer hair that gets a little wavy at the ends, not unlike his own, in a light brown shade. He adjusts the eyes to be without lashes, mostly generic in shape, and then switches from a triangular nose to a circular one. 

Then, once his appearance is set, Martin changes out of the darker clothes. He dons a pink sweater with yellow stripes and a pair of grey pants. Soon enough he was off to his nighttime business.

Jon has not yet watched anyone play this late. He notices that the music seemed quite different, and everything looks different at night. Little lighting fixtures he’s never noticed before offer dim, warm glows to help see by. He spots fireflies hovering about on the island, though Martin ignores them. 

The shops are closed by now, and most of the villagers seem to be asleep. Jon watches as Martin walks past most of the usual attractions until he reaches a section of the island that Jon has recognized as ‘off-limits’ to the others. It’s a little garden, fenced off from a small residential plot. There are little squares of flowers of various sorts. Most of them are the generic colors that Jon has seen all about the island, but a few of them are new - for example, he’s never seen a pink lily anywhere else, yet there one sits in one of Martin’s grids. 

Martin seems to spot it too, summoning a shovel to dig it up and tuck it away. 

“Did you make a flower that color?” Jon asks. 

“Pardon?”

Jon sinks into the back of his chair, but refuses to back down, though he also refuses to look at Martin. “That lily. Did you make it pink, or do they simply… show up as new colors? Or did you, uh, plant it from a seed?” 

“Oh, you have to breed them to make new colors,” Martin explains. He has a very gentle voice, and Jon wonders if it’s because of the hour. It certainly feels too late to be speaking at normal volume. “That’s what this little section is for, breeding new flower colors.” 

“Do all the flowers have alternate colors?”

“Yeah! Some more than others. Like, there’s only purple, blue, and orange pansies, after the three default colors, but then you have something like lilies, which have, um… four special colors, I think? Oh, and five for roses.” 

“The way you have them organized, are they supposed to look like Punnett squares?” 

“Um, yeah, sort of! I’m doing it sort of- well, there are a few ways to do it…”

For the next half hour, Martin explains the mechanics of crossbreeding flowers. It’s more complex than Jon would have anticipated for a game like this. He’s especially impressed by the convoluted process required to grow blue roses, which Martin explains are the hardest to get. 

“It doesn’t help that I don’t know anyone else who has the game,” Martin chuckles. Jon is staring at him more than the screen, now, his handful of grapes long gone. “If someone else comes to your island and waters your flowers, there’s a higher chance of hybrids.”

“Wait, someone else? Do you mean other people, like a real life person?”

“Yeah! You can connect to other consoles using the internet, and they can come over to your island. It looks really fun, but, well, we only have one Switch here, and I don’t know anyone else who has the game.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a bummer. I bet I’d get some of the roses I need a lot faster if I had help like that. But it’s okay, I don’t mind waiting. It- oh, well, I guess it gives me something nice to look forward to when I get home, you know?”

“I… suppose.”

“Like, after a long day,” Martin says, his voice low and careful, though Jon doesn’t think he’s concerned about keeping quiet at the moment, “it’s just nice. I get to spend my whole day wondering if I’ve got a new flower. I know it’s just a dumb little thing in a silly game, but it’s still a treat to find one, makes me happy.”

“Hm.”

Martin rubs his eyes, suppressing a yawn. Jon looks at the clock on the screen and is surprised to see it’s nearly four in the morning. “Do you always play this late on weeknights?”

“God, no,” Martin laughs, which lets the yawn escape. “I just couldn’t get to sleep, figured I’d at least work on something and tire myself out instead of roll around for hours, alone with my thoughts.”

Jon could understand that. He had trouble sleeping often and usually resorted to reading until he felt tired enough to try again. 

“That’s enough for tonight though, I think,” Martin sighs, and with that he begins to exit the game. 

Jon quickly gets to his feet. As Martin stands to turn off the console, he wavers, caught between a desire to make a clean exit and this feeling that… well, he should say something, shouldn’t he? It would be impolite to just disappear, at this point. Martin was very… patient, with Jon, with all his little questions, his staring. 

“I, uh. Hope you have a good night,” Jon mutters as he begins to shuffle in the direction of his room. 

Martin looks over his shoulder and offers Jon a smile. “You too, Jon.”


	2. Purple Tulips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to ostentenacity and dathan once again for beta-reading

Jon finds Martin there the very next night, though not quite as late. He had been listening this time, and upon hearing the theme song from down the hall, decided to creep out and make sure it was who he thought it was. **  
**

Martin is already sitting cross-legged on the couch. He’d gotten home a bit earlier than usual, today, but declined the dinner that Gerry had offered. He doesn’t have food now either, and Jon wonders if he’s hungry at all.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Martin glances over his shoulder and spots Jon. Martin jumps in surprise, but doesn’t yell. Instead he offers a little smile. “Oh, hello again Jon. Did you… want to play?”

“No,” Jon says, immediately, and scurries over to his previous spot. He sits with his back lying against one arm of the chair, legs kicked up over the other, so that he’s facing the television. 

Martin says nothing more, simply goes about his business in the game. Tonight he does some fishing before going to the garden, dropping off his small collection at the box in front of a dark Nook’s Cranny. Then he delivers gifts to Biskit and Poppy. 

“What are the little presents for?” Jon finds himself asking. 

“Ah, well, gifts just make them more friendly,” Martin says. “I had a few extra clothes that I know these two like; that’s part of the fun, too - they’ll usually wear whatever you give them.” 

“You can decide what they wear?”

“To an extent? They like some things more than other things. I think if they don’t like a clothing item, they’ll just put it in storage or something.”

“Hm. Why do you want to be their friends?”

“Well, you get little pictures if you become best friends with them. Other than that, they just like you more, give you more gifts and want to play with you. Among other things.”

Jon watches Martin check up on his garden, collecting weeds that have popped up. There are no new hybrids tonight. “I’ve noticed some of the animals say very similar things when you talk to them.”

“Yeah! See, the way they do it is they only have a certain number of personality types…” 

\---

Somehow, it becomes an odd little routine they share. Not every night, of course; there are nights when Martin comes home, stretched so thin he can barely offer anyone a hello before he’s stumbling off to his room to sleep. There are evenings where Jon is deep in his work, unwilling to communicate with anyone beyond monosyllables. But every so often, they’ll both be awake just past midnight, and Jon will be in his room keeping an ear out for the music. If he hears it, and if he’s feeling up to company, he’ll sneak out of his room to join Martin in front of the television. 

Martin never plays for too long, usually only an hour at most. Jon will sit in his chair and watch. He’ll ask little questions, things he’s sure must sound stupid, but Martin never comments on his lack of knowledge on the basics of a video game. He just answers, his voice a bit rough with fatigue, but never unkind. 

After a few weeks of this strange ritual, Martin asks, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try playing, Jon?”

Jon doesn’t scowl at the question, not anymore. He’s used to it now. But he still shakes his head. “No thank you, Martin. I’m fine watching.”

“Alright…”

There’s something… odd, there, in Martin’s voice. Jon twists in his chair just enough to observe the other man. He’s in pajamas and looks very relaxed, comfortable where he sits on the couch, legs propped up on the small ottoman he dragged over. “Hm?”

“Oh, nothing.” But it’s not nothing, Jon can tell, because he’s actually spent enough time with Martin to notice the little glint in his eye, the hint of a teasing smile beginning to show on his lips. “Just thought it might be fun to change up my look, and I thought it’d be best to get your input, but I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

Jon doesn’t understand what he means. He turns back to the game and watches Martin go back into his little house, then wander over to the standing mirror. It asks Martin if he would like to change.

Then Jon is watching Martin select a skin tone notably darker than anyone else’s in the house and he begins to suspect what’s happening. “Martin!”

“Yeah Jon?”

“Martin, w-what, what are you doing?”

“I’m just trying something new,” Martin says innocently. Jon turns to glare at him, but the other man is smiling outright now and seems completely unapologetic as he tabs over to change the hair color as well. 

Jon’s body vibrates with indignation and a need to act, but what exactly does he intend to do? Why is he so distressed in the first place? Can it even be called distress? There’s a feeling in his stomach, something that makes him feel energetic in a strange way. But it’s not exactly awful, even if it makes him feel a bit queasy - it’s a sort of giddy feeling, something that makes him feel very warm and hyper-aware of himself. It’s frustrating and confusing, and it makes Jon grimace. 

“Martin!” 

“Yes?”

“That- not those.”

Martin pauses. He’d made the avatar’s hair much darker and had been dancing between two of the ponytail options. “Hm? Which one then?”

“Maybe, uh, maybe the longer one… to the left a few?”

“This one?”

Jon squints critically at the long hair with round bangs and gentle curls at the ends. “Yes that, uh, that seems adequate.”

“Doesn’t quite capture your look,” Martin says, purposefully wistful. “Too bad we can’t put in the grey.”

“Hey,” Jon grumbles.

Martin chuckles. It’s quiet - he always laughs quietly, as if worried it’ll disturb who he’s talking to or something. But Jon has found he likes his laughter, even if he’s never sure how to encourage more of it. “No, no, I mean it! I mean, there are options for grey-”

Martin skips over to the light grey and picks it, and Jon can’t contain his snort. “Oh, lord, don’t tell me I’m going to look like that before I’m forty.”

“I’m sure you’ll still have some color left in you before then, Jon.”

“Humph. Go back to the black.”

Martin does, then takes them to the eye options. Jon groans. “I’m not overly fond of most of these.”

“Oh I dunno, I’m sure we can find ones that suit you,” Martin says, that teasing note back in his voice. Jon watches in horror as Martin, seemingly by instinct, chooses Jon’s least favorite style: the perfectly round ones with eyebrows and lashes on the bottom. “Like these?”

“No!”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Martin!”

“Hm, how about these then?” Martin dashes over to the large, shiny eyes with lashes. 

“Not those either; they look ridiculous.” 

“How about the ones that look like pacman?”

“No! No, Martin-”

The cursor flies over to the ones that Tim refers to as ‘muppet stoner eyes,’ and Jon decides he’s had enough. The wild, giddy feeling propels him thoughtlessly onto the couch, much too close to Martin, and he reaches over to try taking the controller. Martin barks a laugh and tries to wiggle away. “Hey!”

“Martin, if you’re not going to pick the right ones then just let me-”

It’s surprisingly easy to get the controller from him. The only problem is that, once Jon has it in his grip, he finds he’s not prepared for the responsibility. He stares down at it, then glances at Martin, hoping his embarrassment isn’t obvious.

Martin offers a sympathetic smile, then looks at the screen. “Hey, how about the ones next to those? I think they’d look nice actually. They suit your ‘constantly tired’ vibes, yeah?” His voice is softer, now, a bit more genuine. It encourages Jon to actually look back at the screen. 

“Those? They’re still a bit… droopy, don’t you think?”

“Like I said, they capture your essence.”

“Tired?”

“Yes.”

“As if you aren’t up just as late as I am,” Jon grumbles, but then he turns his focus to the controller. Okay, he can do this. It’s easy. He looks at the two nobby little sticks, trying to remember which one he would use to move the cursor. He tries the one closest to his right thumb, but when he looks back up at the screen, he sees the avatar rotating instead. “Ah-”

“You’ll want the left one.”

Jon hastily moves to the left stick, carefully flicking it with his thumb to the right. It lands on the other set of eyes, lashless and heavy-lidded. There’s a pause.

“Um… which, uh, button, chooses them?”

“The A button.” 

Staring down at his hands, Jon presses A, and the eyes change. “Hm.”

“They’ll look good when you put glasses on, promise,” Martin says, smiling. For just a moment, he raises his hands, as if to take the controller away. Jon thinks that’s what he would like: for Martin to take control of the situation once more, for things to go back to normal. It’s absurd, but something about actually handling the game himself is already a bit overwhelming. Martin doesn’t take it, though. He puts his hands in his lap and leans back into the couch. “I know your eyes are brown,” he says, “but maybe black would look good? Why don’t you try it?”

It takes a moment for Jon to travel down and over, but eventually he gets to the color option, and he finds he prefers it to the lighter brown. His eye color has always been quite dark. He remembers when he was a child, hearing other children argue quite passionately he had black eyes, not brown, even though that was obviously impossible. 

“What now?” Jon asks, hesitant.

“Now you press ZR - ah, this button - to go to mouths and noses.”

It takes much longer than it should, Jon is sure, but Martin patiently helps him finish up the customization. They opt for a triangular nose and simple smile. When it asks for Jon’s style, he leaves it as is. Martin helps him remove the custom skin he uses for his freckles, leaving the avatar with a faint blush on their cheeks. 

“Now for clothes!” Martin says brightly, but Jon is already shaking his head and offering the controller back. “Oh, you don’t want to?”

“I’m good for now,” Jon mumbles, moving away once the controller is on Martin’s lap. He debates for half a second whether or not he should go back to his chair, then lets himself relax on the couch once there’s a bit of distance between himself and Martin; he hadn’t realized how closely he’d been sitting. “You do it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’ve been told I have very little fashion sense, in any case.”

Martin snorts, hopping from the mirror to a nearby wardrobe. “Tim?”

“And Michael.”

“Oh, as if Michael knows about anything that doesn’t involve neons.”

Jon watches Martin flip through the clothing options. It’s a tad absurd, Jon thinks, how many clothes the lot of them have accrued so far. The idea that all of it could fit into such a small wardrobe really challenges his suspension of disbelief. 

Martin immediately puts on a pair of rectangular glasses, ones that match Jon’s usual thick frames, but after that he tabs rapidly between clothing options and makes thoughtful noises. “Hmm, what will I, Jonathan Sims, wear today…”

“You-! You’re not me!”

“But look, they look just like you! And I’m playing as them, so that means it’s me.”

“That, that’s not how that works,” Jon argues feebly.

“Sure it is! I’m Jon, and I think I want to wear this sweater for my midnight stroll to the garden,” Martin teases, and Jon can only frown and watch him pick the clothing item. It looks like a pale purple sweater vest with a long-sleeved black shirt underneath. “Hm… and maybe some painter pants beneath that?” 

Soon enough, Martin has constructed an outfit, which includes smart brown shoes and a faux-leather bag. Jon can’t help but think it looks comfortable, and not too different from his personal tastes in clothes. Not that he’ll ever admit that to Martin, who smugly leaves the house.

“So, what shall I do now?” Martin asks Jon.

“Aren’t you going to the garden?” he asks back. 

“Well sure, we could go straight there. But since I’m playing as you, I thought you could decide what we do first. I think the others might’ve left some fossils for us to find tonight, if you want to go get those? Or maybe we could go fishing? Up to you.”

Jon crosses his arms, part of him wanting to insist Martin is not playing as him, because it’s just a game, and the avatar isn’t really him, no matter how similar the skin or glasses. But then he looks at the little character standing there, waiting, swinging their arms, and somehow he gets it. It’s not him, but it is him at the same time, and Martin wants to know what he would do if he still had the controller in his hands. 

“I think… I want to find the fossils and have them assessed,” Jon suggests, his voice soft. 

“Alright then! Off we go. Watch out everyone, Jon Sims coming through with a shovel.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“I wonder, can you even lift a shovel actually?”

“Martin!”

“What? I mean, you have such skinny arms.”

“If I had a shovel I’d wack you with it.” 

“Ah, so I was right to warn everyone.” 

* * *

It’s silly and strange, but Jon enjoys himself despite it all. 

They keep up the trend the next night they meet, and then the session after. Martin will fix up the avatar to look like Jon, then have Jon direct their activities for the night. 

“I like the purple tulips,” Jon might say as they harvest hybrids from the garden. “Put one by the house. Uh, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good to me!” 

Or he might direct Martin while they’re fishing. “Catch that one.”

“But Jon, I’m pretty sure that’s another bass.”

“You don’t know that! What if it isn’t a bass? We’ll only know for sure if you get it.” 

“It’s gonna be a bass.”

“No, it’s not.”

(It is, of course, a bass.)

Then there are times when Martin makes suggestions: “Has anyone showed you the museum yet?”

“Um, yes? I mean, well, I’ve watched everyone take things to that little owl fellow.”

“Yeah, you can talk to Blathers, but have you actually looked at any of the exhibits once the animals and fossils are donated?”

“...No, I don’t think so.”

“We should go! The museum looks excellent in this game, they did an awesome job with it.”

Martin runs them to the museum, but before he goes anywhere, he offers Jon the controller. “I think you’d like exploring it yourself,” he offers, his voice gentle with encouragement. Jon feels his hackles raise instinctively, but he only hesitates a moment before taking it from him. He’s been sitting with Martin on the couch since that first time Martin made the avatar look like him. It’s been… nice. Interesting, sitting so close. Usually he’s only ever this comfortable around Sasha or - when he’s able to behave himself - Tim. But Jon finds it almost too easy to drop his guard around Martin, to relax into the cushions or put up his feet. 

Jon is still wary of controlling the game himself, but Martin stays quiet, watching him adjust to moving around with the stick and interacting with things using the A button. He’s curious what exactly the other buttons do, but there are so many and he’s worried about messing something up, somehow. So he sticks to the A button and begins wandering, slowly and carefully. 

Martin’s correct about the museum, even Jon can tell it looks quite nice. He’s honestly impressed with the design of the exhibit layouts, finding they remind him a lot of actual museums he’s been to. The fossil branch is dark and moody, with pretty lights that accentuate the detail of the skeletons. Martin quietly guides him to the end of the exhibit, directing him to stand beneath an empty spotlight where a line leads to him. It highlights Jon as a part of evolutionary history, which Jon can’t help but find slightly charming. 

The aquarium is also lovely, though Jon wrinkles his nose at the idea of being able to keep a whale shark in such a small tank. Martin giggles at his grumbled musings over the implausibility of some of the logistical errors being showcased. 

The bug exhibits are easily Jon’s favorite, though, despite his lack of enthusiasm for most arthropods in real life. It’s just so vibrant, with soft, elegant music playing in the background as he explores the light-dappled pathways. He enjoys seeing the butterflies overhead, or watching the ants slyly escape from their exhibit to steal food from the nearby lab. Martin laughs when Jon jumps upon noticing the tarantula, and Jon can’t help himself reaching over to lightly bat at the man’s shoulder in flustered retribution. 

\---

One evening, when Martin is humming gleefully over a few new hybrid flowers that have sprouted (orange lilies tonight!), Jon asks after the requirements for blue roses. Martin pulls up a chart on his phone. There are, in fact, several, Martin explains, but he gives Jon the one he thinks is most accurate. It’s a colorful infographic demonstrating a breeding process that can only be described as convoluted. 

“Let’s do it,” Jon decides, tone resolute. 

“What, really?”

“We should probably expand the garden a bit, set up a few beds and try at least two of the methods at once. We can segregate them to make sure nothing gets mixed up, and I can keep a hand-written reference to keep track of what flowers created which hybrid spawns so we don’t get confused.” 

“O-oh, okay!”

Jon looks at Martin, who is staring at him. He fiddles with Martin’s phone, feeling overbearing all of a sudden. “If you want to, I mean.” 

Martin’s smile is big and bright, and it gives Jon that giddy feeling again, though this time it’s unambiguously nice. “Yeah! Let’s do it!” 

* * *

It’s a long, slow process. Each new day in the game isn’t a guarantee for a hybrid rose, and even when they do appear, they’re not always the ones needed to advance to the next stage of the process. It doesn’t help that, as Martin explained before, there’s no other user to help water the flowers for a higher probability of hybrids. 

Still, it’s dreadfully fun, more than it probably should be. Jon enjoys having a goal in the game, something that requires a bit of attention to keep from spiralling into a mess of confusion. He quickly cottons on to the fact that he has a better mind for it than Martin, who gets easily confused over which flowers came from what batch as soon as he digs them up to relocate. Jon has to keep a little notebook with a record of which flowers came from which color pair so they can keep track of recessive alleles. Martin seems perfectly content to leave him to it, letting himself be directed by Jon, who is no longer at all hesitant about bossing him around. 

It’s fun. It’s nice. It leads to Martin trying to come home a few hours early, which is a surprise to everyone in the house. 

“I realized it’s probably better in the long run,” Martin explains shyly over dinner, the first time he’s been able to join them for a proper meal since Jon moved in. “I’m not losing out on too many hours overall. Plus, I should really try to fix my sleep schedule,” he adds with a laugh. 

This, of course, means that he and Jon start playing together much earlier, around ten at night, after dinner. Which is mostly fine, and Jon appreciates that he doesn’t have to stay up just to play anymore. The only problem is, well. It was sort of nice, too, being the only ones in the house awake, sitting together in the quiet dark with no more noise than the soft tunes of Animal Crossing and their own muted voices. 

Also, it meant Tim didn’t know they were playing the damn game together.

“So how long has this been going on?” he asks them both, sounding scandalized as he observes Jon sitting next to Martin and accepting the controller once he starts it up. “Jon, I didn't know you played.” 

“I still mostly don’t,” Jon says self-consciously. “Only, uh, now and then. Martin does most of it.”

“What, and you just watch?”

“I’ve been watching you play, why is it so surprising to hear I watch Martin do it?” 

“Okay, fair. But still, I had no idea the two of you were hanging out right under our noses!” He turns to Sasha, as if she’ll share his incredulity. “Right! Under! Our noses!” 

“You seriously didn’t know?” she asks him, her lisp made more noticeable from amusement. “I definitely heard them a couple times while I was up in my room. Mostly Jon yelling at Martin, I think.”

“Well that’s no surprise.”

“I never yell at Martin!” Jon protests.

Martin, unhelpfully, shoots them both a piteous look. “He scolds me for my awful fishing,” he tells them mournfully.

Jon sputters, “I do not-”

“Jon! Have you been bullying our boy Martin while there was no one around to save him? That’s low.” 

“I do not bully him,” Jon growls. “If- if anyone is bullying anybody else, he’s the one who bullies me.”

“Since when?” Martin asks, trying and failing to stifle his laughter. 

“Like that time I couldn’t figure out how to take out the bug net and you wouldn’t help me, and then I couldn’t catch the moth before it flew away, and you made fun of me for scaring it off!” 

“Hm, are you sure I did that?”

Jon throws his hands up, his expression furiously indignant. “Yes! Yes you did that! And, and then that other time, when I was trying to dig up a fossil but kept missing, and you laughed at me.” 

Now Tim is cackling, too, and Jon can see Gerry over Sasha’s shoulder, trying to hide a smile behind one hand. Jon grumbles and shoves the controller into Martin’s lap, which is a bit difficult, given the man is nearly folded over from laughing so hard. “W-wait, ah, wait Jon-”

“You play,” Jon says, crossing his arms and tossing himself into the opposite end of the couch to sulk.

Martin spends a few minutes trying to tempt him into taking the controller back. The others disperse, going to their rooms to wind down for the night. Jon sticks to his guns in the end, but it doesn’t take him long to start directing Martin as usual. 

And it’s nice.


	3. Blue Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter~ Thank you to everyone for reading and for your lovely comments. I hope you've enjoyed this silly little fic uvu
> 
> Thanks once more to ostentenacity for beta reading!

One weekend, Jon is over at Georgie’s place. Well, it’s Georgie _and_ Melanie’s place, now. And he hates to admit it, but it looks nice, with several small details betraying the change in roommates. Most notably are the little framed photos, propped up here and there, showing pictures of Georgie or other friends of Melanie’s huddled together for group pictures. Jon is surprised to find one of him, even, hung up in the kitchen. It features him and Georgie at a bar, one of the first times the three of them went out together. Melanie had refused to miss her chance at securing blackmail material of Jon while he was drunk. The picture shows Georgie, cheeks red from laughter and alcohol, while Jon attempts to hide behind one of her broad shoulders as he glares at the camera. It’s surprisingly crisp despite being taken on a phone in a hazy bar while, if he recalls correctly, Melanie was just as inebriated as them. **  
**

It’s a nice picture. Jon makes just enough of a fuss to amuse Melanie, who teases him about it, but finds he can’t help glancing at it when left alone once more.

Georgie had insisted on having Jon over for lunch, given they haven’t had much of a chance to talk in the few months since he’s moved out. That evening they sit together around the coffee table, Georgie and Melanie sharing the small couch while Jon sits on a cushion on the floor opposite them, closest to the television. From his low vantage point, he notices something new has taken up residence in the entertainment center. He can’t help interrupting Georgie’s story, blurting out the question in his excitement, “Is that a Nintendo Switch?”

Both Melanie and Georgie give him dazzled looks. “Why the hell do you know what that is?” Georgie asks. 

Almost immediately after, Melanie says, sounding oddly defensive, “It’s _mine.”_

“Do you have Animal Crossing?” It’s out before Jon can help himself, his mind sparking with the potential this presents for his and Martin’s project. 

\---

“Martin!”

“He ain't home yet, buddy,” Tim calls from the living room, where he’s playing a different game on the Switch.

“Ah. Right.”

“You could always come and hang out with your ol’ pal Tim- hey!” 

But it’s too late, Jon has already disappeared to his room, buzzing with excitement.

Later, as soon as Jon overhears Martin come in and offer his greetings to Michael and Gerry, who are working in the kitchen, Jon dashes back out and says, “Martin!”

“Ah! Hi Jon, what’s up?” 

“Melanie has Animal Crossing.” 

“...Who’s Melanie?”

Jon sits at the kitchen table. “She’s Georgie’s girlfriend.”

“That’s your… your old roommate, right? Georgie?” 

“Yes. Melanie brought a Switch with her when she moved in, and she said she plays Animal Crossing as well.”

“That’s nice,” Martin says. He rests his bag next to the chair opposite Jon and then sits down. He looks good, less tired than he used to when coming back from work. “But, um, why are you telling me this?”

Jon has to resist the urge to slam his hand down on the table. He settles for flapping it in Martin’s direction, glaring at him for not understanding. “Martin! This means that she can help us water flowers, don’t you see?”

“Oh! I, I suppose you’re right. Um, would that, uh, be alright with her? I mean, she doesn’t even know me-”

“I already asked her, and she said yes,” Jon says, and he pulls the note he’s been eagerly carrying all afternoon from his pocket. “She said this was her Friend Code, it’s what you need to let her come over, right?” 

Jon slides it over to Martin, who inspects it with a half-smile. Then he laughs and says, “You’re really excited about the roses, huh?”

“Well, of course I am,” Jon says, though the wind has left his sails a bit. He’s conscious of how tame Martin’s reaction is compared to what he was expecting, and he’s starting to feel a bit silly over his enthusiasm. Discussions of his experience playing the game with Martin had dominated the latter half of lunch. Georgie and Melanie had been surprisingly willing to indulge Jon, letting him explain the island Martin shares with everyone in their house. He told them about the blue rose project and about his limited experience actually playing the game himself, earning a round of laughs which, surprisingly, he hadn’t minded tolerating. 

As usual, Martin seems to pick up on Jon’s change in mood. He leans forward and says, “I am too! Sorry, I am excited - this would be really nice, and we could use the help! I wouldn’t mind our little project getting a chance to progress a bit faster, y’know? It’s just, um, I think maybe it feels weird to play the game with someone I’ve never actually met before?”

“Well that could be arranged easily enough,” Jon says, his tone one of pure practicality. “I suspect Georgie and Melanie would enjoy coming over for dinner or something.”

Then Gerry pops his head in, asking, “Who’s coming for dinner?” and it’s out of Jon’s hands after that. Everyone in the house seems to delight in the idea of having Jon’s ex and her girlfriend come over, enthusiastically pressuring Jon into inviting them via text before he’s allowed his share of dinner. 

* * *

Organizing a get-together is as difficult as Jon expects, which is to say not difficult at all. Georgie makes a fuss about not having been invited earlier, and Melanie promises to embarrass Jon thoroughly. They come over two weeks later, arriving early on Saturday.

Jon’s nervous about introducing everyone. Sure, Georgie sort of met Tim and Sasha when they helped Jon move his stuff to the house, but there hadn’t been time to divulge embarrassing university-day secrets or supply amusing ex-girlfriend anecdotes. Not to mention the presence of Melanie, who functions as a wild card in Jon’s life. He genuinely doesn’t know what to expect, nor does he quite grasp what he hopes to achieve with this visit beyond blue roses. And even that’s a statistical improbability.

The day passes in a whirlwind of introductions and handshakes, followed by a disorganized lunch with a side of aimless conversation as everyone gets to know each other. University is brought up - an inevitability Jon is forced to live with. Anecdotes are told, which Jon tries his best to counter with his own little stories about Georgie. Melanie explains how she and Georgie met each other, what they both do for work, and for a while the spotlight is mercifully removed from Jon’s shoulders. 

It’s a bit chaotic, but despite the constant threat of feeling overwhelmed by just how many people are at the table, Jon has fun. Every now and then he’ll glance over at Martin, who’s seated to his left. Martin hangs back during most of the conversation, seemingly content to listen to stories and jokes while he munches away at a bowl of pretzels. When he catches Jon’s eye, he smiles; his head tilts and he makes a little ‘mm?’ sound that’s only barely audible beneath the constant chatter. Jon mostly shrugs and turns away, honing back in on the flow of conversation so he’s not blindsided by some wild accusation or claim made by Melanie. Once, he manages a quick smile back to Martin and snags a pretzel for himself. 

Jon is surprised when Melanie is the one who loudly demands they boot up Animal Crossing. By then the gaggle of roommates has begun to disperse, with Gerry running a few personal errands and Michael - apparently not one for too much socializing - disappears into their room. Tim and Sasha retreat to the kitchen, offering to clean so their guests can settle into the living room with Martin and Jon. 

As Martin goes for the console, Jon quickly situates himself in his spot on the couch. Melanie takes his former seat on the lone armchair while Georgie settles on the floor at her feet. 

“Oh, sorry, do the two of you want the couch?” Martin asks when he notices the arrangement. “There’s plenty of room there with Jon; I could take the chair.”

“I’m fine,” Georgie reassures him, waving from her spot. “At least you lot have nice carpeting. It’s all hardwood at our place.” 

“I certainly don’t miss that,” Jon grumbles, mostly to himself. He’d hated having to wear socks or slippers all the time to keep his feet warm, and Georgie was right; it made sitting on the floor or standing for too long a lot more of a bother. 

Martin looks like he might argue, but Jon impatiently wiggles, which draws him over at last. Martin settles down in his usual spot, about a foot away from Jon, who pulls his legs up onto the couch and crosses them, careful to keep his knee from knocking against Martin. He finds he’s relieved that the seating arrangement has stayed the same as usual, even if Melanie and Georgie are giving him odd looks. 

When the game loads and the avatar steps out of the house, Melanie barks a laugh while Georgie coos, “Aw, look, they made Jon!”

“Wow! Jon did you actually, seriously make your character in this?”

Jon glares at her. “Martin started it.”

Without even looking, Jon knows that Martin is laughing - he can feel the motion of it, given how close they’re sitting. “It’s true! But look, isn’t he cute?”

Melanie snorts. “That’s the only way Jon Sims could be cute, yeah.”

“I’m not cute!” 

“Yeah, that’s what I just said! I meant the little you in the game. Everything is cute in Animal Crossing, haven’t you noticed?”

Georgie laughs and Jon pouts. 

For the first time, Jon gets to watch Martin go to the airport with the dodo birds. (“Why on earth did they put an extinct species of bird that can’t fly in charge of an airport?” Jon asks. Melanie replies, “Jon, you know there’s a dog that’s literally a mummy in this game, right? There’s a cat whose head is an orange. Stop asking stupid questions.”) Martin talks to them for a while, confirming that he would like visitors to come to his island, then adjusting the permissions to allow any friends access. He’d added Melanie’s friend code last night.

“Open the island,” Melanie chants from her spot on the chair. “Stop having it be closed!” 

“Almost ready!”

“Let me in!”

Georgie pats Melanie’s ankle. “You’re not even at the airport yet, babe.”

“Shut up, Georgie. Hey, Blackwood, d’you need any fruits?”

“Um, yes please! I only have pears and cherries right now.”

“Ew, your native fruit was pears?”

“What’s wrong with pears?”

“Nothing, except pears are gross.”

“What’s your native fruit?”

“Peaches,” Melanie says proudly. Jon barely understands the conversation they’re having right now. Why does she sound so smug? “I’ve got at least one of each fruit so I’ll bring you the others. You have coconuts though, right?”

“Oh, yes! Got those from one of the islands.” 

“Excellent. D’you want anything else? Like maybe the two million weeds I have in storage?”

Martin laughs. “Oh, ah, no thank you!”

“What about the mere hundreds of thousands of twigs?”

“I think I’ll survive.”

“Your loss.” 

Eventually, Martin’s game is interrupted by a notification that someone is arriving on the island: Mel from GhostTown descends. Jon watches her walk into the airport. She’s got her hair pulled up in a little ponytail and dyed blue. She’s wearing a sporty tank top that shows her midriff along with bright yellow jeans and flip flops. Yup, that’s Melanie. 

Over the next hour, Martin and Melanie run around the island. Jon explains their blue rose project and directs Melanie on which flowers to water, though there’s enough bickering between them that the process takes twice as long as it should. Martin shows off the island, crediting Sasha for her lovely terraforming and plaza projects. Using their little phones in the game, Martin bumps Melanie up to the Best Friends status, which immediately proves to be a mistake when she starts running around and digging holes everywhere. Jon actually lets out a curse - loud enough to startle Martin, who nearly drops the controller with a yelp - when he notices one of their black cosmos has disappeared. “Melanie! Are you taking our flowers?”

“Only a few!” she immediately cries. Georgie delivers a sharp, surprised reprimand, gently swatting her girlfriend’s shin. “Look, listen! You guys have so many cool flowers here, and I haven’t bothered trying to get any of the other colors. D’you mind if I have some, Martin? I did bring you all those fruits, and they sell for a lot when they aren’t your natives!”

Jon has a long, indignant rant right at the tip of his tongue, but Martin only laughs and says, “Yeah, sure! Just don’t take any of the purple tulips, or anything in the garden area. And you really should’ve asked first.” 

“I know, I’m sorry! Look, I’ll make it up to you and send you something cool in the mail tomorrow, okay?”

“Oh, really, something cool?”

“Yeah! I’ll have you know I’m the best at catching those balloon gifts, and I always get rad stuff. Bet you don’t have even half of the items I’ve collected.” 

And so the conversation moves on. Jon silently fumes, then wonders why he’s so upset and tries to ignore it. 

The rest of the visit is fine. Melanie even invites Martin to come over to her island, which he gleefully accepts. 

It’s really quite interesting, to see another island. It’s shaped differently from theirs, and everything is in a different spot. It’s a bit messy; some sections are nicely organized, usually near the villagers, where their houses tend to be surrounded a bit by trees and stumps and grey tiles. Then there are other spots, strangely open and devoid of detail, with half-constructed fences that end with no rhyme or reason.

“I’m trying to make a ghost town,” Melanie explains. “Or, like, a haunted forest. So everyone lives far apart and there are spooky graveyards and stuff.”

Jon raises a brow as he gives Melanie a look. “You’re trying to make _this_ game look intimidating?”

“Hush up, Sims! It’s a work in progress, okay? Next time you chumps come over, you’ll be scared to death. Look, I’ve even got Lucky! He’s the mummy I told you about. I really wanna get Ankha and Coco too...”

* * *

That first island visit leads to more in the subsequent weeks. Late some nights or on weekends, Melanie will text Martin (when did they exchange numbers? Jon wonders - he hadn’t seen them do it), telling him she’s available to come water his flowers. She’ll come over, steal a couple of hybrids as payment, dig holes around the island, drop off random offerings in front of Martin’s house, then disappear. 

Sometimes Martin goes over to her place, for DIY recipes from her villagers. Melanie even starts her own little garden, now determined to breed herself an army of black, red, and purple flowers to match her town aesthetic, and Martin helps water those. 

The blue rose project continues with a notable uptick in yields. It’s not every day, but certainly more often than before that they will receive a new flower following one of Melanie’s visits. Jon continues to keep up with his notes, to direct Martin on where to relocate new roses, or let him know which ones can be donated to Melanie. 

In the end, it only takes a month and a half for their prize to manifest.

\---

Jon is the one playing when it’s discovered. He and Martin have had a late start of things, since Martin worked his second job that day. It’s nearly midnight before the two of them settle down on the couch to play, and not even five minutes in Martin complains about wanting a snack. 

There’s no longer any hesitance in Jon as he accepts the controller and begins his walk to the garden. At this point he knows how to do all the basic functions, even if it takes him an extra half-second to remember which button to press. It doesn’t come instinctively to him like it seems to for everyone else, but Martin explained more than once it’s something you get used to, like any other skill. “Theoretically, anyone can do it, but doing it well can be difficult if you’re new to it, and sometimes it just doesn’t come naturally to you without extra practice.” 

Jon walks up a ramp into the garden. They’ve been gradually expanding it, taking up an entire swath of the eastern cliffs. Over time, Martin has found and crafted a handful of items that give it a little more personality, breaking up the monotony of their carefully constructed fence squares with trees, log benches, and other outdoorsy decorations. Not quite as economical in conserving space as Jon might prefer, but he admits it does look nice. 

Martin is still in the kitchen when Jon walks over to the roses and sees it. “Ah!” 

“Huh? What is it?” comes Martin’s voice through the doorway, slightly pitched with alarm. 

“Martin!”

“What?” Jon hears his heavy footsteps on kitchen tile. “Did Wisp startle you again- Oh!” 

There, at last, sitting innocently in their garden, is a blue rose. Even in the dark, it stands out boldly amidst the other roses. 

“We did it!” Jon exclaims, as loudly as he thinks he can get away with given the late hour. Martin appears behind him, leaning over on the back of the couch. He’s very close to Jon, actually, one elbow gently knocking his shoulder. 

“Wow, we really did,” Martin says, a little breathlessly, then laughs. “Damn, that took so much longer than it feels like it should have, right?”

“Compared to the other flowers, absolutely.” 

“They really make you work for it.” 

With a few careful button presses, Jon summons up a shovel and harvests the rose. “Where should we put it?”

“Hmm. Well, first of all, shouldn’t we try to clone it?”

“Oh, you’re right. I’ll move it to the duplicates square. We should also mark this collection of roses to make sure we don’t accidentally tamper with them again, since they’ve proven to yield results.”

“Right.” 

Martin hurries back to the kitchen for his snack while Jon works. Soon Martin is at his side once more, munching on some apple slices while he watches Jon. The tasks are enough to keep Jon’s mind from wandering, but soon it’s done and he feels…

Something nudges his arm. Jon glances over at Martin. His hand, much larger and warmer than Jon’s, is resting on the crook of Jon’s elbow. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

Jon gives him a confused look. “What? Why would something be wrong?”

“I dunno, you just looked a little down. Aren’t you glad we finished our little project?”

“Of course I am,” Jon snaps. Then, apologetically, and much more gently, “Of course. Yes, I’m glad we did it. It just… Well, now what do we do?”

“Hm?”

“We accomplished our task,” Jon says. “We got our blue rose. So what now?”

For a moment, Martin is quiet. He’s looking at Jon quite intently, enough that Jon begins to sweat beneath his gaze. He’s noticed over these last few months that Martin doesn’t actually look at him too much. He glances a lot, to gauge Jon’s reactions to things, or to check on his expression if his tone seems off, or whenever Jon asks a direct question and he wants to be courteous when delivering his answer. But he never stares - in fact, he’s seemed overly-conscious at not looking too long or too hard at Jon. Wherever that previous restraint was, it’s not here now, and for the first time Jon realizes this is something he’s been wanting. It’s nice, to have Martin this close, looking at him - only him - with such intensity. It brings back that giddy feeling in his stomach, the one that pops up every now and then, though it’s gotten easier to deal with the more time he’s spent with Martin. 

Eventually, his voice very soft, Martin says, “There’s plenty for us to do, Jon. We don’t have to stop playing together just because we got the rose.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure!” He’s smiling now, and Jon thinks, _Oh. Uh oh._ “I mean, Animal Crossing is a game meant to be played for a pretty long time. We still have to collect all the bugs and fish, right? And those are seasonal, so it’ll take at least a year to fill out the museum. Plus there’s art to collect. We can try getting all the models of them, too, as a project. Or we can try to get every piece of furniture for a specific set, or…”

Martin rambles on, listing all the little excuses he and Jon can find to keep this time they have together. 

* * *

A couple days later, Melanie flies over to pick up her newest batch of flowers. Jon had refused relinquishing any of the blue roses to her until they had at least three of their own. It is with mild reluctance that he opens the gates to allow Melanie access to her bounty. 

“Wow, you lads actually managed it!” Melanie says to him, her voice a bit tinny over the phone. She’d texted Jon incessantly until he’d gotten into a voice chat with her, refusing to come to his island unless they could talk. He would have been tempted to call her bluff and keep the flowers if she wasn’t bringing over something for Martin who, unfortunately, couldn’t be the one dealing with her today. 

“Yes, yes,” Jon says, waving at the television as if she could see him. “Just take them and leave Martin’s things there at the front, would you?” 

“Rude,” Melanie grouches. As she’s shoveling flowers into her pockets, she asks, “Why am I dealing with you, anyway? Where’s Martin?”

“Job took him out of town for the weekend,” Jon mumbles. He tries not to sound as sullen as he feels. 

Melanie’s laughter lets him know he failed miserably. “Jesus, Sims. You’ve got it bad.” 

Jon summons his bug net. “Go away, Melanie.”

“Oh, what, no fervent denials? No indignant sputtering?” 

In the game, Jon crouches, slowly approaching Melanie as she digs up the last blue rose. He considers, just for a moment, objecting to Melanie’s claim. But there’s not really any use in lying, is there?

“Wait, holy shit. Seriously? Did you actually figure it out?”

_“Melanie-”_

“See, we both clocked you for it pretty much right away, when you came over and started talking about him - you’re so damn obvious, did you know that Jon? And it was basically confirmed when we went over there. But I told Georgie there was no way you even knew for yourself, because, well, you're like some sort of poster child for being emotionally repressed-” 

“Thanks, Melanie.”

“-but Georgie said maybe you did, and we had a bet going, so good job fucking me over on that. Now I’ve got to pay for the next date night.” 

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for it someday,” Jon says, deadpan. He releases the button that lets his bug net slap against Melanie’s head. _Bop._

He expects it when she brandishes her own net, and as they’re chasing each other in circles trying to hit one another, Melanie asks, “So, you ask him out yet?”

“No, of course not.” 

“Look, I get you’re not the most charming guy, but Martin seems nice; I’m sure he’d at least give you a chance.” 

“Are you actually attempting to encourage me?”

“I’m just telling it like it is, Sims! Martin’s a nice guy. If he rejects you, I’m sure he’ll be a total peach about it.” 

“What a lovely thought.” 

“Better than getting laughed at or something, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah. Right.” _Bop._ Melanie’s net hits him, repeatedly, but Jon doesn’t retaliate. Instead he leans back on the couch and sighs. It’s dark and quiet, past ten already. Tonight, Michael and Gerry are the ones who are out late. Tim was visiting his brother, leaving only Sasha in the house, and she’d turned in early. Martin wouldn’t be home until the day after tomorrow. In this moment, despite Sasha in her room and Melanie on his phone, Jon feels profoundly lonely where he sits. 

“Hey! ...Jon? Hey, you still here?”

“Um, yes. Sorry. Are you heading off?”

“Yeah, got what I need. Left Martin’s stuff by the airport.”

“Alright.”

“Hey.”

“Yes, Melanie?”

“...Listen. Even if you’re not gonna say anything to him, or whatever- like, I get it, it’s kinda scary. But you should definitely, I dunno, test the waters or something at least. Try to get a read on him, you know?” 

Jon watches the game as it processes Melanie’s departure. For almost thirty seconds he just stares at the screen, trying to think of what to say. “I… Hm. Yes, I think I know what you mean. Uh, thank you?”

“Please don’t mention it,” Melanie replies, sounding grumpy. “Ever. And especially not to Georgie. I’m off; night, loverboy.” 

\---

“Hey, Jonny Bossman!”

“Don’t call me that, Tim.”

“Jonny or Bossman?”

Jon glares from where he sits at his desk. “Either, preferably.”

“Just boss then.” 

“What do you want, Tim?”

“Just wanted to let you know before I forgot again: I played AC this morning and Isabelle said there’s going to be a meteor shower on the island. So you should tell Martin and make sure the two of you play tonight.”

Jon has, thus far, done a good job following his self-imposed rule of ‘no video game chit-chat’ while at work. Still, he can’t help perking up. “A meteor shower? Are those special?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, they’re not _super_ rare or anything, but they only happen at night, and Martin’s had some rotten luck with ‘em so far. Anyway, basically, there will be shooting stars. You wish on ‘em, and then in the morning you get these little star bit things that you can use to make furniture.” 

“Ah. I see.”

“So don’t forget!”

“I’ll let him know.”

With a single finger-gun, Tim departs. Jon immediately pulls out his phone to text Martin the news, idly wondering why Tim didn’t do it himself. Just before Jon sends the message, though, he hesitates. Debates with himself for a second before opening a new tab on his phone and sending Melanie a text first. 

_Melanie. Tim just informed me that there is going to be a meteor shower in Animal Crossing tonight._

_oh cool! you should let me come over so i can get some stars_

_Is that possible?_

_yeah! even if i do it on your island, i’ll still get the star fragments on mine the next day_

_I’ll ask Martin then._

Jon is about to tab back to Martin when Melanie says: 

_oh wait!_

_wait! jon don’t ask him yet_

_What is it?_

_right well i just got a brilliant idea_

_Hm._

_you shouldn’t doubt me sims! im trying to help you out here._

_do you want my help or not?_

_Help for what?_

_well, for example, have you even considered the idea of asking martin out on a date yet?_

_Of course not!_

_and why not then?_

_I can’t just ask him that._

_sure you can! that’s how people, yknow, start dating. or did you forget?_

_We’re just friends. Martin is nice to me, but he’s nice to everyone._

_bet he doesn’t pay ac all the time with anyone else tho_

_Friends have hobbies they enjoy together._

_Melanie listen. I just don’t want to do something like that, okay?_

_Yes, I like Martin. Sure, maybe I would like to take him out on a date or something. But not right now. I’m happy with how things are. I don’t really want anything else, and especially not something that could make things awkward or complicated._

When Jon sends off the text, huffing a bit at having to explain such personal feelings to Melanie of all people, he’s surprised at how much he means what he says. He is happy with the way things are between him and Martin. Just because Jon might be developing some romantic feelings for Martin doesn’t mean he has to act on them. He’d rather keep this familiar, comforting dynamic they have with each other now, and enjoy it without any of the pressures of romance looming over his head. 

_okay okay i get it_

_fine_

_okay but what if it wasnt really a date or anything?_

_What are you talking about?_

_(Melanie is typing...)_

\---

Martin looks brighter than usual when he finally gets home. He thanks Tim for the leftovers stashed in the microwave before turning to Jon and saying, “I’ll be back out in a little while and we can play, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Oh, I’m excited! We haven’t had shooting stars on the island before - or, uh, I haven’t had a chance to see them. I always forgot about them, or I’d be too tired by the time I got home. I heard they’re really pretty…” 

Later, Martin finds Jon fidgeting on the couch, game already open. He smiles and heads to the kitchen to grab his dinner. “Is Melanie still coming over?” he asks, heating up the food. 

Jon replies as he gets to his feet, “Uh, yes. I already opened the airport.”

“Alright! Be there in just a sec. Do you see any stars yet?”

Jon had not checked for stars yet, no. Rather than say this, he tells Martin, “I’m going to my room for a few minutes.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I, uh, have to get something. I’ll be back though.”

Martin walks into the living room with a plate of food and a slight frown on his face. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

The sentiment makes Jon want to rock on his feet, tap his fingers, smile and frown at the same time. Instead he shakes his head. “No, go on. Or just, uh, take a moment to eat while I’m gone. Shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay…”

Jon makes a hasty getaway into his room. From his bag, he pulls out Melanie’s Switch. In the interest of time, he’d already turned it on and left it in sleep mode when he was sure Martin was almost home. When the game boots up, he’s all ready, appearance and outfit changed. 

God, this is silly. It- it’s just so juvenile. Jon is an idiot for letting Melanie convince him that this was a good idea. 

“Jon?”

“Just a moment!” With shaking fingers and the last of his resolve, Jon directs the little avatar to the airport. A second later, he hears the now familiar ping of someone flying over to Martin’s island. 

Martin says, “Melanie’s on her way!” 

To this, Jon does not reply. He simply stares at his own console, watching the little boat in the corner as the game loads. He hears Martin gasp just a second before Jon sees himself on screen, arriving at the airport. 

“Jon!”

“Ah, yes Martin?”

There’s was laughter in Martin’s voice when he asks, “Jon, is that you?”

Jon runs up the dock until he sees Martin’s character. He’d dressed Martin in the very safe choice of sweater and jeans, which always seems to be his preferred combo. Meanwhile, Jon had completely edited Melanie’s avatar to look as he usually did when he played. 

Rather than respond to Martin’s question verbally, Jon, very carefully so he won’t mess it up, stands next to Martin and uses the ‘greetings’ emote, followed quickly by ‘joy’.

“Awww, that’s so cute! Jon!” 

“I can come out in a minute,” Jon replies, trying not to sound as giddy as he feels. This is so dumb. So silly. Why does the simple act of running around Martin’s avatar as Martin returns his ‘joy’ emote make it impossible not to smile? 

When he returns to the living room, Martin is giggling to himself, bopping Jon with his bug net. Jon makes a show of huffing and frowning as he plops himself down on the opposite side of the couch. He leans against the armrest, letting his feet settle on the square between himself and Martin. “Rude.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist!”

“Maybe I should just leave, then, if you’re going to harass me.”

“Nooooo.” Martin reaches over to gently push Jon’s knees. “No, don’t go! We have to wish on stars!”

And so they do. They wish on stars and run around the island, chatting about how their days went. It’s somehow a totally new experience, despite the fact that Jon knows this island like the back of his hand, despite the fact that he’s in his same spot with Martin on the couch, despite the fact that he’s played with someone else before. Martin walks along with him, keeping pace. He stands in the background while Jon wishes on stars, using silly emotes until Jon laughs. They catch nighttime bugs and fish together (though, more than once, Jon makes sure to run by when Martin is trying to reel in a finned shadow, which earns him a scolding.) They sit on the bench together, feet kicking back and forth, side by side in the game, just as they are in the quiet dark of the house. 

At some point, Martin goes, “Oh! I just remembered, I made something for you!”

“Huh?”

“One second, I”ll get it out of the inventory.” Martin’s character hops off the bench and races away for the house. Jon quickly follows, but stays outside once they arrive at the building. “I made it the other night, when you were already asleep, but forgot to show you.” 

Martin’s character walks back out and drops an item at Jon’s feet. He picks it up. It shows up on his inventory as a hat. With a click and a twirl, Jon’s avatar soon dons a flower crown made of blue roses. 

“Isn’t it pretty?” Martin asks. “I got the DIY for it after we got our roses - lucky, right? I wanted it to be a surprise, so I’ve sort of been sneaking away blue roses when you weren’t around.” 

“Oh…” 

Martin turns to look at Jon. “Something wrong?”

“No!” Jon knows he’s grinning down at the screen in his lap, and wonders how it’s possible Martin doesn’t already know how he feels. He’s never felt like more of a fool for someone. “No, it’s lovely. Thank you, Martin.” 

When Martin smiles at him, Jon has to look away, or else he knows he’ll blush. Then a thought occurs, and he immediately un-equips the crown and drops it back at Martin’s feet. Martin makes a noise of confusion.

“I remembered I’m not, uh, me,” Jon explains hastily, “I’m playing as Melanie, technically, and I don’t want to forget and accidentally leave with the crown on my person.”

“Oh!” Martin laughs. “Oh, yeah!” 

“Why don’t you put it on?”

“But it’s for you.”

“I’ll let you borrow it,” Jon says, smiling. “Just for tonight.”

Martin huffs a laugh, then equips it. He keeps it on as they run about, wishing on stars and enjoying one another’s company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who has been on one, I can confirm that meteor shower visits in AC can absolutely count as dates, sorry Jon!

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a fun game to play in the comments: who's your favorite AC villager and which is your favorite flower...


End file.
